


Worse

by nagi_schwarz



Series: Foxtrot [15]
Category: Stargate Atlantis, The Dollhouse - Fandom
Genre: Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-13
Updated: 2016-03-13
Packaged: 2018-05-26 11:59:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6237709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nagi_schwarz/pseuds/nagi_schwarz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the comment_fic prompt: Stargate Atlantis, John Sheppard + any, how could things get any worse? Rodney confronts John after having eavesdropped on his conversation with Ceccoli. Set in Season 5.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Worse

John made it back to his quarters without breaking his fragile composure. As soon as he was inside and the door was closed, he sank down on his bed and buried his face in his hands. Short of a Wraith attack, how could things get any worse? Ceccoli had built an imprint chair. He had even more advanced, dangerous imprint tech lying around. What if the Genii got hold of it? Or worse, what if the IOA did? John knew he was safe only because he was so far from Earth. He would be very surprised if Rossum hadn't infiltrated the IOA. Ceccoli's little side project had brought John so close to being discovered. John realized he was breathing hard, his entire body was shaking. He was having a panic attack. He sat up straight and closed his eyes, summoned the English Teacher imprint. He needed to calm down, to meditate.  
  
He shouldn't have left Ceccoli alone. He should have sent some marines to watch him. Maybe even should have had Ceccoli dismissed and had the marines destroy everything instead.  
  
John reached for his radio, asked Amelia to patch him through to security. He ordered a team of marines back to Ceccoli's location to make sure the chair was destroyed, and also the remote wipe/imprint device with it. Once Stackhouse confirmed the orders were received and promised to give him a status update once destruction of the devices was achieved, John switched off his radio and set it aside.  
  
And tried to calm down.  
  
He was just settling into his breathing cycle when his door hissed open.  
  
John opened his eyes and reached for his weapon without thinking.  
  
"Whoa, easy!" It was Rodney. "I'm not your enemy."  
  
John forced himself to leave his sidearm where it was. "Now's not a really good time."  
  
"You weren't answering your radio. I was worried." Rodney edged closer.  
  
John sighed and reached down to take off his boots. "Aren't you supposed to be resting up for your big Sunday with Keller?"  
  
"I needed to talk to you. About Sergeant Ceccoli's project," Rodney said.  
  
John shook his head. "I handled it." He needed Rodney to leave him alone. He stripped off his socks and laid his boots at the foot of his bed, like he did before going to sleep every night.  
  
Of course, Rodney was oblivious to social cues at the worst moments. "I know about Rossum.

John stilled. Inside him, the imprints panicked. "Rossum?" he asked. "What's that?" Apparently things could go worse.  
  
"I know it was terribly rude of me, but I listened to your conversation with Sergeant Ceccoli," Rodney said. "Well, we listened to your conversation."  
  
"We?" John fixed Rodney with a sharp look.  
  
"Me and Major Lorne."  
  
John raised his eyebrows.  
  
"It was Lorne's idea!"  
  
"Whatever you think you know, Rodney, you don't." John stood up and started herding Rodney toward the door.  
  
Rodney, never one to initiate physical confrontation, allowed John force him backwards. "I heard everything you said. I know that you're one of those - what did they call them? - dolls. And that John Sheppard is an imprint."  
  
"What makes you think you know that?" How much had Rodney heard? John's mind went into overdrive. The law clerk immediately began reciting the conversation he'd had with Ceccoli, trying to help the English teacher determine what Rodney might have overheard and what he could reasonably deduce or induce from it. The physicist was wondering when Rodney had learned to hack into Atlantis's security surveillance feed.  
  
"I let Rossum scan my brain," Rodney said. "They claimed they were going to preserve my intellect for posterity, that if I went in for regular scans, they could make me immortal. The whole programmable human thing sounded ridiculous, but they agreed to fund my research, so I said yes. I didn't care how crazy their theories were, because that project they funded - it's what got me noticed by the SGC."  
  
The physicist inside John's head disclaimed explicit knowledge that he had been based on Rodney McKay but did admit that Rodney often thought the way he did. Or was it the other way around?  
  
"Rodney," John said quietly. "Please, go. It's been a long night. I have things planned for my Sunday." Actually, Joe and the imprints had things planned for their Sunday. If Lorne had overheard too, Joe's plans might be ruined. John initiated the lock. The door hissed open. John slowly crowded Rodney out of his door.  
  
"I just wanted to say I'm sorry I eavesdropped but you can trust me and I'll listen to whatever you'll tell me." Rodney's words tumbled out in a rush before the door closed.  
  
John sagged against the door and contemplated letting one of the more upset personalities take over to have a good cry.  
  
The radio next to his bed crackled. "Sir, it's Major Lorne. I - we need to talk. It's about Joe."  
  
John slid down to the ground and curled his knees to his chest and listened to his own breathing as his world came crashing down.


End file.
